Give Me Novacaine
by Catlethea
Summary: Xavier Parsons is fifteen, the nephew of the infamous Pepper Potts, living with Tony Stark, and. . . dying of cancer. Now, if that doesn't make a person bitter and jaded, what will?  Rated T for language and some content, several OCs added.
1. Chapter 1

I watch as the blond woman, wearing Tony's button-up and underwear, walks right past where I am leaning against the wall and examines the control panel. I decide to make my presence known, just to scare the slut: "I wouldn't touch that if I were you."  
She jumps, eyes wide and hand flying to her throat. Once she recovers reasonably, Blondie crosses her arms over her voluminous chest and tries to intimidate me; I guess she thinks a teenage guy with his arm in a sling is just terrified of a skinny, half-naked blond ho like her. "Why not, kid?"  
I shrug, putting on a show of nonchalance. "Oh, no reason really. It's just that security is pretty intense here, if you know what I mean. You know, sirens, cops, guns, the whole she-bang."  
She looks scared, but tries to hide it. "And how would you know that? You're just a kid."  
"I happen to be fifteen, thank you, and I can still get into a shitload of trouble without much help, especially in a house like this. And by the way, you really need to put some pants on." I say in an off-hand sort of tone, nodding to her bare legs.  
"Huh?" she asks, a bit baffled.  
"It doesn't really matter to me, but it might be a nice touch. I mean, it's not like I'm impressed by you or anything like that."  
"What are you talking about?"  
I sigh, "Okay, I'll say it in plain English, in small words so you can understand: There. Is. No. Boner."  
Her jaw drops. "E-excuse me?"  
At that very moment, my aunt Pepper comes in with some dry cleaning, saying to Blondie, "Here are your clothes, ma'am, I've had them washed and dry-cleaned for you. You'll have to excuse my nephew, he tends to make things sound a lot worse than they really are."  
"Hey, I wasn't shitting around about the security, you know that." I protest, and my aunt gives me the famous Pepper Is Pissed Look. She continues, through clenched teeth and without looking away from me, "My nephew is also very foul-mouthed and childish."  
I put on my best baby-imitation voice. "Mommy, can I have a juice box?"  
"Don't push your luck." she snarls in an undertone, narrowing her eyes. I fake a shudder for her benefit, then back out, muttering, "Ooh, scary."  
Thank goodness Tony has no problem with my attitude or vocabulary, and he's jamming and fixing his car downstairs. When I come in, he looks up, waving and calling, "Hey, X-Man, what have you been doing?"  
Even though I saw him last night, we always greet each other like it's been a long time since we've seen each other; it's just a weird thing we do. "I've been upstairs confusing your new gal pal and getting told off by my aunt for saying 'shitting.' "  
"All in a day's work, huh?"  
"Yeah. So what have YOU been doing?"  
He thinks a moment, then bends over the car engine. "Sleeping, and fiddling around here. Transmission's acting funny, so I thought I'd check it out."  
"Don't look at me. I know better than to touch your cars. Pepper would kill my ass dead. Like, literally, Tony. If you wake up one morning and something smells like a rotting corpse, it's me."  
He laughs loudly, then slaps me on the back. Ouch. "You're an okay kid, you know that, Xavier? You should do stand-up comedy or something. Put all that humor of yours to good use."  
"Maybe. But I've got better things to do with my time right now than make strangers laugh. Like torment my aunt. It's practically a career now, and she has better reactions than my parents. Way better." I say, nodding to myself. "She actually said, 'Don't push your luck.' I don't think anyone has ever said that to me before. It's totally wicked."  
"Do you live just to make people laugh or yell at you?"  
I tip my head to one side. "Who said she yelled? I'm usually the one doing the yelling."  
"Interesting. Makes me wish I could have seen you when you hit the terrible twos."  
"This ought to help: They never ended."  
There is more laughter, then I sit back and watch him mess with the car engine, thinking about my past. Let's see, when I was two. . . my parents were at home. I remember being told that they fired my nanny, and my mom failed miserably at taking care of me, so they hired her back. Her name was Bianca, and she was my nanny until I was four, when I was diagnosed with cancer.  
Then, I spent so much time in the clinic that I didn't need a nanny. My brother Jared stayed at home with me when I was actually there, since that was when he hadn't been deployed yet. I think that, in spite of my disease, that was one of the happiest times in my life.  
When I was seven, he left for Afghanistan, and I went back to having Bianca as my mother. My own mother was too busy selling exotic, faraway property to rich fatsos with my father to worry about her sons. Bianca was more like my mother than anyone, even Pepper, who drove me to the hospital for every checkup, and sat with me for at least an hour every time I was in the clinic.  
Bianca would have done those things, had she been in possession of a car. She was still living on her green card then, and having eight-year-old me teaching her English, with the occasional correction from Pepper, didn't exactly help her get a citizenship. But she didn't seem to mind it so much. She didn't have kids; Bianca's only daughter, Lena, had been killed in a freak accident back in Greece at age nine. I was Bianca's substitute kid, like Bianca was my substitute mom. It was strange, but it worked for us. She did everything a mother would do, only more. She told me things most grown-ups wouldn't tell me; like the fact that I might not live past age twelve, and that my mother was one of those women who wasn't meant to have children because she treated them more like objects to show off than people, and when one of them turned out to be a dud-like me-she let it go. Bianca was blunt and always honest, she made me laugh, and, more often than not, cry. But she was my mother in a way no one else could have been, I'm certain.  
It was her who thought I should stay with Pepper. She said I needed to be with my family, now that I was better, and enjoy the time that I had with them, because family is the most important thing. But she's still around, Bianca. I call her at her new job at the Olive Garden sometimes, when she's not busy, and we discuss any new developments, but it's not the same. I miss her.  
The admission of that feeling makes me feel sort of relieved, but now I feel like I want to cry. I'm not someone who expresses emotion very well, and it's always hard for me to admit things like that. Sometimes, it feels harder than the multiple rounds of chemo that I've had in the past eleven years.  
"Xavier? Hello, anyone in there? Come in, Mr. Parsons!" Tony says, waving his hand in front of my face.  
I jump. "What?"  
"Welcome back. Pepper wants you. Says there's a phone call for you upstairs." he replies, pointing to the ceiling.  
I groan, "Great. Five bucks says it's somebody I really don't want to talk to. Nice knowing you, Tony." I wave, walking upstairs, then grimace as Pepper holds the phone out to me. She mouths, "your mother," and my despair increases. "Hello?"  
"What took you so long, Xavier?" she accuses, and I can just see her halting in the obsessive polishing of her fake nails. I huff, "I'm not allowed to spend some time just thinking now?"  
"Don't talk to me that way. Listen, your brother wrote and said he's going to be meeting with Mr. Stark overseas, and he wants to see you. Will you go?"  
"Uh. . . I-I, yeah. I guess. Wait, is that even allowed?"  
Visualize eye-rolling. "You'll be with Mr. Stark, Xavier. You're allowed anywhere."  
"Okay, but why do you want me to go? Trying to kill me off?" I joke harshly.  
She snaps just as sharply, "No. I just think it would be good for you to see your brother now that you're out of the hospital. And I think you should see what Mr. Stark does, since you're good with technology."  
"Not that good." I mutter, too low for her to hear, then say louder, "Yeah. Guess you're right."  
"I've already expressed my thoughts on the subject, Xavier." she tells me, the undertone of a beg only completely obvious. "If you worked for Mr. Stark, you'd be set for life, and you could afford your treatment all on your own. Just. . . consider it."  
I clench my teeth. "Okay, Mom. Bye."  
"Goodbye, Xavier. And give Mr. Stark my regards." she says quickly, just as I pull the phone away from my ear and, one-handed, flip it closed in disgust. I shove it back at Pepper, scowling.  
Okay, I lied. I'm not good at other emotions, but anger is totally my domain.  
Pepper watches me for a moment, then asks tentatively, "What did she want?"  
I spit, "She wants me to go to Afghanistan with Tony, to and-I-quote, 'see my brother and observe Mr. Stark's work since I'm good with technology.' God, I hate your sister so much, Aunt Pepper."  
She half-smiles. "So do I, Xavier, but she's still family."  
"Not mine. My family is you, Bianca, Tony, and Jared. That's it. There is no Mom, there is no Dad. End of story." I snarl, venting my anger by kicking the wall. Jarvis, the electronic persona running the house, says in his robotic voice, "That's not very nice."  
"Oh, shut up." I mutter, then say to Pepper, "Ha! I'm talking to a wall. I MUST be bonkers. We need to call my therapist and tell her that her diagnosis is way off."  
Even Pepper can't not laugh at that. I grin triumphantly. "See? I knew I'd get you to laugh one of these days."  
"Well, I admit I don't usually like your style of humor, but that was funny. As was your interlude with that young lady a while ago."  
"You thought that was funny? Score!" I exclaim, punching the air with my good fist.  
"Except." she interrupts.  
"Except?" I prod, curious. I can't see which part of that conversation was not funny.  
"Except I don't want to hear that sort of talking down to any OTHER women. I understand that perhaps you didn't think this one was so bright, but can you at least attempt not to emphasize how much you confuse some people?"  
"Why? It's so funny, Aunt Pepper!"  
"Curb your enthusiasm, Xavier, and you'll be able to hear me tell you that there ARE people smarter than you, and they don't show it off. Just f.y.i."  
I make a face at her, then pout, "You stole my phrase, dammit."  
"Language!" she insists.  
"Hey, did you know the doctors let me cuss all the time when I was doing chemo? One of them even joked that it helped alleviate pain."  
She instantly looks worried. "Does your arm hurt?"  
"A little." I mutter defensively, not looking at her. My left arm, which is where the cancer started and is the worst, has always been weak, because I've had the bone marrow transplanted so many times, and some days it hurts like crazy. Having someone else's DNA in you trying to overwhelm a deadly disease is no physical picnic. Sometimes, if I so much as let my shirt move my arm in the slightest way, it can make me start crying from pain. That's when I have what I call a Shit Day, when my arm is super-ultra weak. Today is not as bad as it can be, but my arm was so stiff when I woke up that I had some trouble getting dressed, and that can be painful, as wimpy as it sounds.  
Pepper rubs her forehead, sighing, "Xavier, you need to let me know if you're in pain. The only way we'll know if you're getting better is if we can tell when you-"  
"I was a little stiff, and it kind of hurt when I got up, okay?" I shout, letting my anger have a little free reign. "Just stop worrying about me, Pepper. I'm fine! I can handle it! Why can't you all just let it go?"  
I stomp away, feeling angry tears welling somewhere far behind my eyes. I swallow them, then retreat to my bedroom, falling dejectedly on the bed.  
"That's not very nice, either." Jarvis comments mechanically.  
I say from behind my pillow. "Shut the fuck up, Jarvis." 


	2. Chapter 2

I must have fallen asleep, because I open my eyes and hear muted voices close by. I carefully get up, padding silently to the living room, where the conversation is being held. I hover at the doorway, listening in.  
". . . what to do! I don't know enough about teenage boys, so I can't tell if this is just some phase he's going through, or if it's because of the cancer. . ." Pepper says quietly, and I bite my lip. I really wish she would quit worrying about me.  
"Boys his age can get that way." Bianca! What is she doing here? "But I think also that Xavier-" she says my name X-Avey-arr, which I've always found funny, "has more troubles than most boys his age. I think that you just need talk to him and ask why he is so angry."  
Pepper sighs, "Yes, I've thought of that. But I'm afraid that he'll lash out at me again, and I don't want him to hate me. He's the closest thing I have to a family anymore."  
Now it's Bianca's turn to sigh. "Miss Pepper, you have nothing to fear from Xavier. Did you know he said he hate me? He said it many times, but because he needs me, like he needs you, he always apologize. And without hate there is no love. To have one, you need the other. It is a part of life to have hate, and with boys Xavier's age, it is common. I was there when his brother was just a little older. I know these tings. You must not be afraid, Miss Pepper."  
I hear a quiet choking sound, and I realize that my aunt, the infallible Pepper, is crying. Guilt seems to radiate from the center of my chest, and I shake my head to clear it, gritting my teeth. I peek around the corner to see Bianca hugging my aunt comfortingly, murmuring kindly to her as she cries. She catches sight of me and nods, unsmiling, then gestures for me to come in. I do so as quietly as I can, wondering what I should do. Bianca points commandingly at the seat beside Pepper, and I understand. I sit, then carefully touch my aunt's shoulder. She sniffs, then turns, tears streaking down her cheeks. I whisper, "I'm sorry."  
That seems to be all the explanation she needs; she puts her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder, and whispers back in a teary voice, "It's okay. I'm sorry, too."  
Instead of releasing the witty comment I had planned-"What are you sorry for? Existing?"-I give her a short, awkward, one-armed hug. Then, she pulls away, leaving me to greet Bianca. "When did you get here, Bianca?"  
"After I got off work. Pepper invite me over to talk, so I come as soon as I can." she explains, smiling appraisingly at me. "Why is your hair black only over your eyes, Xavier? Can you see?"  
"Yeah, I can see fine. The black just looks cool. It was Tony's idea." I reply, smoothing a hand over my black-and-blond skater bowl. I'd always been jealous of guys who had this haircut before, but now I finally have enough hair to try it myself.  
Bianca nods. "I see. Whatever you say. I think it is silly, but I cannot stop you. I learn that a long time ago. Which remind me, I have photo you might like to have, Xavier. Is of you when you were eight years old."  
She presses the picture into my hands; it is indeed me, wearing a disagreeable expression and a baseball cap, under which I have no hair. I don't have hair in a lot of pictures. Bianca points to it and says, "That was when your mother came home to visit. She brought her friends from work for a barbecue-" barb-ee-coo, "-and kept you in the house. You came out, though, and Jared took your picture while you were talking to your mother."  
I nod. "Yeah, I remember that. I was pissed."  
"That you were. Mothers should not lock children in the house while they have a party. Children need to be where the fun is." she huffs flippantly, then glances at her watch. "I should be getting home. It is late. Goodbye, Miss Pepper, Xavier."  
She shows herself hurriedly to the door, and I see that it is dark out. Wow, I slept a long time. When Bianca reaches the end of the walk, she turns back and waves, and I return the gesture with my good arm.  
Damn, I missed that woman. 


	3. Chapter 3

When I get out of the car, I am honestly happy to be alive; being in the passenger seat with Tony at the wheel, going maybe two hundred miles per hour across Malibu, is enough to freak me the hell out and never want to get in a vehicle again. If Tony ever drives like that with me again, I'm going to reach over into the driver's seat and throttle the life out of him. Just a thought.  
While Tony banters with Happy, the guy who's technically supposed to be his chauffeur, but who was actually behind us in a different car the whole way-guess he and Tony were having a race, the bastards-I take my backpack out of the trunk and stumble up the stairs to the door of Tony's private jet, then bend double and try not to throw up.  
Rhodey, Tony's friend, smiles at me and says, "You okay, kid?"  
I wave my good hand indistinctly as a wave of nausea passes over me, then straighten and tell him, "If I were crawling on the floor dying, and getting in a car with THAT psycho-" I point to Tony, who is walking leisurely towards us, "-was my only chance of survival, I would gladly choose death."  
"That bad, huh?" Rhodey chuckles, then turns to Tony. "You're three hours late. I have been standing here waiting for you for three hours, Tony."  
Tony jumps up the final step and pushes past us both into the plane and teases Rhodey, "Waiting on you now, let's go."  
Rhodey just shakes his head and shares an eyeroll with me, then we both follow Tony into the plane, only to find him looking strangely at a rather tall figure in an army uniform. Stepping forward, Rhodey informs, "Tony, I'd like you to meet Commander Yvonne Sheffield. She'll be accompanying us to Afhganistan."  
Commander Sheffield is a tall, nicely tanned brunette in camoflauge, with biceps that could take me out in a matter of seconds. Now, I'll be honest. I've met plenty of women who intimidate me; I've met a few women who worry me, sure; never have I met a girl who downright scares the living shit out of me.  
I think Commander Sheffield could be the first.  
She stiffly salutes Tony, staring straight ahead with her large green eyes. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark, sir!"  
"Same here, Commander Sheffield. This here is Xavier Parsons. He's a new addition to the passenger list as well." Tony replies, smacking my back. Ow. Why does he do that?  
To my surprise, she salutes me, too. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parsons, sir!"  
I snicker, "You don't have to call me Mr. Parsons. I'm only fifteen."  
She half-smirks. "Army protocol, Mr. Parsons, sorry for the inconvenience."  
Tony says, "Well, you don't have to keep that up if you don't want to, Commander Sheffield."  
She nods as the others take their seats, loosening up. "Thank you, sir. What do you want me to call you then, Mr. Parsons?"  
"Just call me Xavier." I reply, and she grins, shaking my hand properly, nearly crushing my right hand in her enthusiastic grip. "Then you can call me Yvonne."  
"Cool. Can you please not break my fingers? I kind of need them, because they're the ones that still work." I say, and she releases my hand instantly, chuckling, "Sorry, I tend to get a little excited sometimes. What happened to your arm?"  
Damn. Me and my big mouth. "Um. . . nothing?"  
"Nothing is not when you have your arm in a sling. Tell me." she orders, looking a tad menacing.  
"Okay, okay! Don't kill me! My arm is just really weak, because that's where I've got cancer." I really hate it that my cancer is usually the first thing that strangers know about me. It really makes true relations tough, since they're always freaking out and worrying about me and showing pity or frightened sympathy, which pisses me off.  
Her mouth falls open, which I expected, and she blinks slowly. Uh-oh, here goes the bombshell. "Oh. . . I'm so s-"  
"It is so very important to your future that you not complete that sentence." I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. "I don't want your sympathy."  
She raises her eyebrows. "Well, aren't we feisty this morning? Someone forgot to take their happy pills!" I laugh, despite myself, and she grins. "Problem solved, right? You want some gum?" She holds out some fruity Trident gum, and I take a piece. "Thanks."  
"No problem." she responds, sitting down for takeoff. I like this girl already. 


	4. Chapter 4

As the plane lands, I press my face against the window, scanning the ground for my brother. Come on, Jared, where are you?

"Why are you squishing your face to the glass like that?" Yvonne asks, watching me quizzically.

I sigh, "Looking for somebody. Can't see him, though."

"Yeah, well, in this heat, I bet most people are inside. If they're smart, that is." Rhodey puts in, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"I know he'll be there." I insist firmly, fiddling with the catch on my own belt. I can't get the stupid thing open! I scowl, shaking my head. "Piece of shit."

"Here." Yvonne says exasperatedly, unbuckling it for me. I get a little hot with her so close, but manage to smile normally and say, "Thanks."

"No problem. I mean, it's not like I can leave you on the plane. Let's go, Xavier." she says, waving me forward. She didn't notice anything. Good.

The heat is murder outside the plane, but it barely registers; I see Jared, running over in that sophisticated army fashion. I can't keep the smile off my face, even as he breaks ranks, which will probably get him in trouble. He doesn't seem to care, either.

"Hey, X-Man!" he calls, then wraps me in a bone-crushing hug. I return it to the best of my ability, resting my head on his shoulder. I really missed my brother.

Yvonne clears her throat. "That was unexpected."

Jared shakes his head, then pulls back, holding me at arm's length, but glancing at Yvonne. "Oh, shut up. I'm allowed to have a minute with my little brother, aren't I, Commander?"

"Oh, so you're his brother. I see."

Jared frowns a little. "What did you think I was? Oh! You and your sick mind."

She shrugs. "It seemed like a good explanation, okay? Don't let me interrupt the family reunion."

She walks away, then Jared looks at me. "Jesus Christ, you're as tall as I am! When did you grow so damn much?"

"Last year. I had a severe growth spurt."

"I'll say! Damn, Xavier. Soon you'll pass me, too. Wow." he exclaims, shaking his head. For a minute or so, we just look each other over, then he quietly comments, "You've got a headful of hair now."

I absently reach up to touch it, smoothing it out of my eyes. "Yeah. It's nice to actually have something up there, you know?"

He nods, then puts his arm over my shoulders. "You seem different, too. More mature, or something."

"I don't know about that, but I'd say it's possible, since the last time you saw me was when I was seven, Jared." I joke, and he grins.

"Still got your sense of humor. Good. So how are things back home? Bianca doing good?"

"Yeah. She came over yesterday, and that was. . . it was good to see her." I hedge. I don't want him to know I made Pepper cry. That makes me seem like such a tyrant, and I just want to give him good news.

"And Pepper? How's she holding up on her own?"

I bite my lip. "We've had a few. . . ahem, disagreements, and she disapproves of my humor and language."

Jared rolls his eyes. "That's a given, my friend. Those things happen. She'll get over it. Have you been doing school, or what? Any kind of education?"

"I'm enrolled in high school this fall. It's like, a private high school for kids with disabilities. I seem to qualify just fine." I explain as I walk beside him, feeling slightly numb. I always get this way when I talk about myself as disabled. I guess I'm sort of disabled, but it never bothered me until I got out of the hospital.

Jared nods, then looks worriedly at me. I grin brightly in his direction to let him know I'm okay, then we walk off across the dusty earth of Afghanistan towards Tony. 


End file.
